You are currently browsing the monthly archive for December 2008.
Iris and I went to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. I loved the movie: the premise, the wonderful acting, the themes, the photography/cinematography, not to mention the amazing work by the make-up and special effects crews…five stars.
The film reminded me that it’s a miracle in itself just to be alive. As the movie’s producer Kathleen Kennedy said in a recent interview, “It’s not about a life lived forward or backward, but a life lived well.” That seems a pretty good thing to remember heading into 2009. Happy New Year everyone.
A decade ago, if you told me that ten years hence I’d be sitting in a bar at my oldest son’s first CD release party, I’d have thought you’d gone loopy. But that’s just where Joe and I found ourselves last night. I kept having to (figuratively) pinch myself to make sure this was real. I was in wonder, thinking, “How amazing it is to see what our babies someday become!”
Alan is generally a shy person. But up there on stage he seemed in his element. He possessed a certain charisma and a quiet but strong confidence and leadership that I first saw in him as a toddler interacting with his day care buddies, and later as teenager on the soccer pitch and basketball court. I can’t wait to see where these qualities take him as he moves through life.
At the other end of the bar, my daughter sat enjoying herself with a group of her friends. That too was a ‘pinch me’ moment…the fact that two of my three children are old enough to frequent bars. She is growing into a person I love to be around…she and I both have come a long way from the days in her mid-teens when I would regularly be in tears worrying about her.
So those of you reading this who are in the depths of teenage-hood, don’t despair: the butterflies that emerge at the other end are among the most beautiful creatures you will ever see!
Sanktuary, with Alan on the far left
I had one of those puttering around days, not doing anything of significance but getting some little things taken care of that had been niggling at me. I returned a library book, paid late fees on some games we’d rented from a movie store some time ago (our family is notoriously bad for late fees: something I must try to address in 2009). I also did some purging: I took some dishes, pots, etc. to a consignment store. I gathered together a bag of clothes for the Sally Ann and a second pile of almost new clothes (now all too big for me) for another consignment store. Except for the late fees, it was a pretty frugal day.
I also learned how to make vanilla extract. It is notoriously expensive, but I now know it’s very easy to make. Here’s how:
6 vanilla beans/pods
2 cups vodka (or use rum or brandy if you prefer)
Split the pods, put them in the booze, close the jar, set in a dark cupboard for at least eight weeks, and voila!
Oh, and today’s turkey left-overs? Turkey and cheese quesadillas. Yes, I’m starting to get tired of turkey. That’s why I now have four large bags of turkey meat tucked away in the freezer for when I can face it again!!
Organized religion and I have had a rather rocky relationship over the years. My parents didn’t go to church regularly so a kid I attended a Baptist church within walking distance from my house. However it seemed to me that there was a hierarchy at that little church that mostly had to do with whether you had the right last name. I didn’t, and so always felt like an outsider.
As I grew a bit older, I joined the church choir at my parents’ Anglican church in town. I loved sitting in that building, soaking up the beauty of its stained glass windows and old oak pews. However once the minister noticed I had my ears pierced, he told me in no uncertain terms that I would have to remove the jewelry if I wanted to sing in the choir. Earrings, he said, were a sign of vanity. That’s when I left the church and embarked on a long period of never setting foot in one again (apart from a few weddings, including mine in the Hart House chapel at the University of Toronto). That’s not to say I didn’t seek out information about various religions: I dabbled in Wicca and in Buddism and as a teenager, I even established my own religion (with a membership of one) that I called Lovedian. There was just one rule: to love everyone. I figured that all the strife in our world could be solved if we all just followed this one law. I still believe that.
As a young adult I shunned religion, siting all the horrific things that had been done to people and this earth in the name of religion. However when my kids were little, I decided they should at least be exposed to religion, so they could make up their own minds about such things. So I went in search of a church. To be honest, I was horrified by what I found. In one church, Sunday School meant separating the girls from the boys, and then having each gender compete against the other to see how well they knew their bible verses. Every time someone got a verse correct, they were given candy. So the message my kids got from that was: God = candy.
It was close to Halloween when we tried the next church. Somehow, I got entangled in a conversation with the minister about witches, and she made it clear that she felt they were the work of the devil. So that was it for me and that particular church.
After several other failed attempts, I found a church that I felt comfortable in, and very timidly I started to attend. However the Minister, who was active in the Liberal Party, wrote a scathing Letter to the Editor personally attacking me for what he perceived to be my biases towards a local candidate during an election campaign (I was a journalist at the time). I was deeply hurt and knew that given how he felt, he could not be my minister.
After that, I pretty much gave up my attempts to find a church for me and my kids. I felt I had let my children down. Interestingly, this year my daughter started her own search – I hope she has better luck than I have had.
Last night, friends of ours invited us to a Baha’i event. I’ve been to various Baha’i celebrations before and have always liked the energy in the room. The Baha’i Faith is based on the ideals of peace, justice and unity on a global scale. In a way it takes me back to my Lovedian roots. However I’m still not convinced any organized religion is the answer for me. Instead, I will likely continue to use the solitude of the bush and my garden as my spiritual places.
Today’s recipe, for turkey and dumplings, comes from the King Arthur Flour web site. We love dumplings in our family so I am looking forward to trying this. Also, thanks to Kara for her suggestion of Bombay Turkey. It too sounds delicious.
The Christians And The Pagans lyrics
by Dar Williams
Amber called her uncle, said “We’re up here for the holiday,
Jane and I were having Solstice, now we need a place to stay.”
And her Christ-loving uncle watched his wife hang Mary on a tree,
He watched his son hang candy canes all made with red dye number three.
He told his niece, “It’s Christmas Eve, I know our life is not your style,”
She said, “Christmas is like Solstice, and we miss you and it’s been awhile,”
So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table,
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able,
And just before the meal was served, hands were held and prayers were said,
Sending hope for peace on earth to all their gods and goddesses.
The food was great, the tree plugged in, the meal had gone without a hitch,
Till Timmy turned to Amber and said, “Is it true that you’re a witch?”
His mom jumped up and said, “The pies are burning,” and she hit the kitchen,
And it was Jane who spoke, she said, “It’s true, your cousin’s not a Christian,”
“But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share,
And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere.”
So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table,
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able,
And where does magic come from? I think magic’s in the learning,
Cause now when Christians sit with Pagans only pumpkin pies are burning.
When Amber tried to do the dishes, her aunt said, “Really, no, don’t bother.”
Amber’s uncle saw how Amber looked like Tim and like her father.
He thought about his brother, how they hadn’t spoken in a year,
He thought he’d call him up and say, “It’s Christmas and your daughter’s here.”
He thought of fathers, sons and brothers, so his own son tug his sleeve, saying,
“Can I be a Pagan?” Dad said, “Well discuss it when they leave.”
So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table,
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able,
Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old, and
Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold.
Back in October, when a co-worker said he had some turkeys for sale that he’d raised himself, I jumped to claim one of them. However as quick as I was, others were quicker, and by the time I chose my bird, there were only two left: a 48 pounder and a 50 pounder. ‘No worries,’ I thought. ‘We can handle 48 pounds of turkey meat. We like leftovers.’ I was a little less sure when I actually had to manhandle that bird to my car to take it home, but nonetheless, I didn’t give it a lot of thought.
It was two days before Christmas, when I staggered from the garage (where our freezers are located) to the kitchen with that turkey, that I started to doubt the sanity of my decision. How I was going to find a container big enough to prepare and cook it?
We wanted to brine it, but there wasn’t a pot in our kitchen anywhere close to the size needed to hold it. Then Joe remembered a huge commercial sized pot he had purchased for a school trip a number of years ago (the kind you use to make soup for 100 people). He unearthed it from a shelf in the garage, and in went the bird. Even so, almost the entire length of the legs stuck out of the pot. Ah well, it was the best we could do.
The next challenge, finding a roasting pan that could handle this monster, didn’t prove to be so difficult. At our annual Robbie Burns suppers we have fed roast beast to up to 60 people. So we pulled out the roasting pan we use for Burns night, and while it was a tight fit, it worked!
Then came my Christmas Day upper body workout – hoisting that turkey in and out of the oven every half hour or so to baste it. That was OK though – it gave me the justification to eat more chocolate: I needed to keep up my strength to tend to this beast.
Joe sizes up a turkey leg
When all was said and done, the turkey was delicious. Sitting at the dinner table, Joe noted that we had about nine pounds of turkey each to eat. So then the ideas for left-overs started to flow. There was the obvious: turkey sandwiches with dressing and cranberry sauce, creamed turkey on toast, and turkey soup. Next came thoughts of turkey pot pie, turkey crepes, and turkey and cheese casserole with spiral pasta.
I have to admit none of these was terribly imaginative. So I’ve taken it upon myself to search out some new recipes we can use so that not one ounce of this delicious bird is wasted. Here’s the first one: Chiles Rellenos. I welcome your suggestions for what to do with an over-abundance of turkey meat.
Lots of leftovers!
1 (28 oz) can whole tomatoes undrained
1/2 cup chopped onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
1-1/3 cups chopped, cooked turkey meat (about 1/2 lb)
1/4 cup raisins, chopped
2 Tbsp slivered almonds chopped
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp pepper
1 dash of ground cloves
2 cups chicken broth, divided
4 (4-ounce) cans whole roasted green chiles, drained (or roast your own chiles)
1 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp all-purpose flour
1/2 cup milk
1 egg yoke
3 egg whites
Drain tomatoes; reserving liquid; chop tomatoes and set aside. Coat a nonstick skillet with cooking spray; place over medium heat until hot. Add onion and garlic; saute until tender. Add turkey and next 6 ingredients; cook 2 minutes,
stirring constantly.
Add 1 cup broth and 1/2 cup chopped tomatoes; cook 15 minutes or until liquid has nearly evaporated, stirring frequently. Gently rinse chiles under cold, running water; drain well and pat dry with paper towels. Spoon 1/4 cup turkey mixture into each chile. Place filled chiles into a casserole dish coated with cooking spray; set aside.
Melt butter in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Sprinkle with flour, and cook 1- minute, stirring with whisk. Gradually add milk; cook an additional minute or until thickened and bubbly, stirring constantly. Remove from heat; gradually stir one-fourth of milk mixture into egg yoke. Add to remaining hot mixture, and set aside.
Beat room temperature egg whites at high speed in a mixing bowl until stiff peaks form. Stir 1/4 of egg whites into milk mixture. Gently fold in remaining egg whites; spoon 1/2 cup egg white mixture over each serving of stuffed chiles.
Bake at 425 for 12 to 15 minutes or until browned. Combine tomato liquid, remaining chopped tomatoes, & remaining 1 cup chicken broth in skillet; bring to a boil. Cook 10 minutes or until thickened into a sauce. Spoon 1/3 cup tomato mixture around each serving. Serve immediately. Serves 4.
Post-Christmas reflections coming soon. In the meantime, here’s what I’ve been listening to much of the day: my brother’s new CD. Here’s just a snippet or two (look to the links on the left). My nephew Martin did the art work: I love its simplicity.
I also love what Roy wrote in the liner notes: Back home in Nova Scotia, back in 1976 if my brain serves me well, back when hanging out together and listening to LP’s was a social event, my friend dropped the needle on a new record and handed me the cover. I had never heard of Jim Hall but knew of Don Thompson and Terry Clarke from the snippets of jazz that made their way to radio and TV via the CBC. The sound was unforgettable; dark, warm, mysterious, haunting and addictive; so much so that my first copy of Jim Hall Live has no top end frequencies left. Hearing that recording was the catalyst that led to the eventual move to the big city of Toronto, and over the years circumstances and good fortune provided occasional opportunities to play with Don and Terry, both individually and together. There was always floating around in the ether the idea of recording with the trio; a kind of ‘closing of the circle.’ Finally the universe smiled and the chance to do a live recording opened up thanks to Steve Del Col at Zooma Zooma Cafe who presented and David Gillis who engineered.
Live recording can be wonderful, disastrous and everything in between, but always honest; no second takes or ‘fixes’. A few of the tunes were played once at a brief rehearsal, some were ‘talked down’ before the set and some were called on the bandstand on the spur of the moment. A couple of the tunes are things that we have all played over the years, some were less familiar and a couple were new. Atlantic Blues was written for my old friend the Atlantic Ocean and Who Can I Turn To is dedicated to Dutch Mason, who sat next to me on a couch at the Pineos’ house in Kentville and played the first jazz chords that I ever heard on the guitar.
Titles and dedications aside, this recording is about the interplay, spontaneity, joy and adventure of that performance back in July, when it felt like someone dropped the needle on a side and I was transfixed once again by the sound of Don’s bass and Terry’s cymbals, amazed that when thumb went to string, it felt like I had come home, full circle.
I’m at work this morning to take care of a few things and as I write this, colleagues are popping by my office to wish me Merry Christmas as they head on home to begin the holidays. I will follow as soon as I finish this rather hasty post.
Luckily, I haven’t had to do anything this morning that required too much concentration since I’ve only had about three hours of sleep. Jamie had a couple of friends over last night, and as teenage boys tend to do, they sounded like a herd of elephants running up and down the stairs all night. Finally at 2:30 I sent them to bed, and that’s when I noticed a teenage girl who I’d never met standing in my livingroom. She was apparently a friend of one of the boys staying over. I asked her if she needed a ride and she said no, she just lived up the street. I suggested it was time for her to go home. But once I sent her out the door, I doubted myself. It was a cold night and she had a light coat on. And I think she’d been partying. I hummed and hawed but in the end I pulled my coat on over my pjs and started out the door. She hadn’t gotten very far (yes, now I was sure she’d been partying) so I walked her home and made sure she got in the door. By the time I got back half an hour later I was wide awake, courtesy of the frigid December air. So I tossed and turned until I fell asleep sometime between 5 and 6, only to have to get up at 7.
I need to get my second wind though because there’s still lots to do today. There are the tortiere pies to make and the house to tidy before our dozen or so guests arrive this evening. There’s the turkey to brine, the last of the cookie plates to make up and a few phone calls to make to family and friends. Joe will take care of the rest of the food for tonight – an array of appetizers – and we have some visiting to do this afternoon.
No time to post any more – let the festivities begin. Merry Christmas everyone!
Freshly polished silverware for the holidays
